


Death by bear-cock

by Kingu



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Crying, Cum Inflation, Extreme anal gaping, Hate Fuck, Italian Medic, Loss of Faith, M/M, Monster sex, Overly large insertion, Rape, Religion, Roswell gets attacked and violated by Were-bear Vlad, Russian/Persian Heavy, They don't like eachother, Violent Sex, Were-bear, anal prolapse, beastiality, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingu/pseuds/Kingu
Summary: An angsty, violent fic I wrote for TastyTexan about Vlad attacking and violating Roswell in his were-bear form ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ(despite the title, nobody actually dies)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TastyTexan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=TastyTexan).



> Refs for our OC's:
> 
> Vlad & Roswell (SFW): http://imgur.com/a/26FgK 
> 
> Vlad (In bear form & Roswell (NSFW): http://imgur.com/a/MZSMS
> 
> Some suspension of disbelief is required to get through this fic, I don't know what exact damage a cock that big would do, I haven't got any sort of medical expertise, So I just kinda made it up.

 

Strangely enough, it’s the silence that Roswell can’t _stand_ . Having to listen to nothing but the rhythmic _bang-bang-bang_ of the headboard against the wall, the creak of mattress springs, not only to feel the slap of Vlad’s thighs against his rear, but to _hear_ it. It’s unbearable. So unbearable, that the Doctor reluctantly pulls his face from the pillow, sneering back over his shoulder at his infuriatingly quiet partner.

“Not very _talkative_ tonight, are we, Vladimir?” He intends to spit the words in his usual catty, venomous tone, but he’s made breathless by the steady force of Vlad’s hips rocking against him, his truly enormous cock pistoning away inside and stealing the air from his lungs with every sharp ingress. Roswell’s entire body jolts forward with each solid thrust, as Vlad grips his hips and fucks him steadily, unhurriedly from behind.

Roswell stares over his shoulder for a long moment, almost trying to catch the Russian’s eye, but to no avail, and a particularly hard thrust has him clutching back at the pillow, biting into it to mute his whines of resentful pleasure. It’s one of those rare occasions where the giant brute _isn’t_ fucking him at a pace like he wants to tear the comparingly tiny Italian in two, leisurely thrusting away, not even bothering to twist and manipulate the Doctor into any new positions.

The Medic _would_ have taken it as a blessing, but they’ve been going at it for too long. He’s sore, sweaty, and despite the pangs of pleasure keeping him interested, he’s _bored._ The slick sounds of Vlad’s massive cock pushing into him over and over make his teeth grind and his hands claw into the pillow.

“Can you just _hurry up?_ ” He hisses back at the heavy, furiously blowing long, sweaty tendrils of hair from his face, still clutching the pillow tight. The Doctor gives an undignified grunt as his head is promptly shoved back down, Vlad’s massive hand cupping the back of his skull and keeping it pinned. Despite this, Vlad’s pace doesn’t falter, dutifully thrusting into the little Medic again and again, one hand tight upon his hip.

“Hush” The Russian replies curtly, as Roswell gives an irate growl of anger into the soft pillow, face screwed up in a sneer. His entire lower half is hurting, his back and hips ache from the strain of being on all fours for so long, not to mention his ass feels sore to the point of numbness. He winces and gasps every time Vlad’s huge cock pushes into him, cringing in discomfort as his arms encircle the pillow, clutching it hard and stuffing his face into it with a huff, grumbling miserably. Even his rear is sore after nearly an hour of Vlad’s solid hips slapping against it. He just wants to _sleep._

By now, Vlad’s hands are the only things keeping the Doctor from collapsing, gripping his soft hips and slamming them back onto his cock over and over. Roswell barely has the energy to grunt, breathing heavy and making occasional soft noises of dismay.

Through the blur of thrusting and panting, Roswell dimly thinks that Vlad might be finally nearing completion, as he suddenly grabs his hips tight and starts ramming him _hard,_ as the Medic manages an exhausted yelp as the dull pain in his backside suddenly spikes.

Roswell squeezes the pillow tightly as he anticipates the grotesque wetness of Vlad’s copious release flooding his insides, but it never comes. Vlad’s hips stutters like he’s about to finish, but after a moment of nothing, he heaves a sigh, and slowly withdraws his cock, making Roswell grimace in both disgust and mild confusion.

He remains face down in the pillow as the mattress creaks, and Vlad slowly climbs off the bed, leaving the Doctor sore and perplexed. Exhausted, Roswell slumps onto his front with a huff, the bed sheets damp with sweat underneath him, allowing himself to catch his breath as he eyes the suspiciously quiet Russian.

“Is that it?” He sneers, barely having the energy to lift his head and glare at the Heavy.

Vlad stands silently beside the bed, bathed in the soft blue light of the moon filtering through the bedroom window. His body is tense, like there’s a weight on his broad shoulders, a vacant look in his eyes that Roswell just can’t place.

When he doesn’t respond, Roswell sighs, rolling over with a groan as his aching muscles protest any movement. If Vlad wanted to be moody, then fine, that wasn’t _his_ problem. As far as he’s concerned he’s done enough for the big brute, wincing as pain shoots through his lower half with even the most minor of movements. If he thinks he feels sore now, he _dreads_ the morning, waking up and having to walk with a limp, not to mention sit down awkwardly.

Deciding he’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it, Roswell quickly pulls his underwear back on, groping about for the crumpled duvet, attempting to tug it up over his shoulders and finally get to sleep, but he pauses. He realizes Vlad is still stood beside the bed in complete silence.

“Are you coming to bed? Or are you just going to stand there all night?” The Medic snaps, tired and beyond irritable, twisting round to glare at the Russian through the darkness. With his glasses left on the nightstand, and the pale moon as the only source of light, Vlad is little more then a huge, dark silhouette in the window, the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders the only visible movement. And still, the Giant doesn’t answer, and honestly, it was starting to unnerve the Italian.

The silence stretches on for a long, uncomfortable minute, Roswell stares as the Russian through the darkness in growing concern. Was he _angry?_ Vlad rarely gave him the silent treatment, and when he did, it was because Roswell had done something to make him truly furious. The Doctor wracks his brain, but he really can’t think of anything he’s done recently to make the Russian quite so mad at him.

Not one to be falsely accused, Roswell throws the duvet back with a huff, gingerly climbing out of bed as the sudden movement reminds him how sore he is.

Momentarily ignoring the fact he’s half naked, he stands behind the Russian, arms crossed and hip cocked, an irritable sneer twisting his features.

“You can’t be mad just because I don’t like you putting that grotesque... _thing_ inside me. You’re too old to sulk, it’s _pathetic”_ He sneers, tossing his head to get some stray strands of hair out of his face.

Silence. Roswell’s arms unfold and his hands plant themselves on his hips. His brow quirks impatiently as Vlad dares to ignore him.

“ _Scusami?_ ” The Italian finally rounds on the giant, grabbing his thick arm to demand his attention as he steps round the Heavy.

“Don’t _ignore_ me, you big-”

Roswell freezes. Vlad's eyes stare right at him, terrifyingly bright and bloodshot. His teeth are long and jagged, and curl over his lips like gnarled yellow fangs. Roswell’s heart clenches in his chest, almost forgetting to beat.

“ _Vladimir?_ ” He near whispers.

A horrid growl rumbles from within the broad expanse of Vlad’s hairy chest, his top lip curling up to bare those horrifically sharp teeth. A deep, inhuman growl. It rumbles through the room, thrumming under the floorboards and throughout the Medic’s entire being, so deep and reverberating he can feel it in his own throat. His stomach drops like a stone.

“....Vlad?”

The room is utterly silent, blood roars in the Medic’s ears as his chest grows tight with a dreadful, creeping fear. A cold sweat prickles the dip of his back as he swallows thickly. Realization creeps through Roswell’s body like an icy chill, his blood feels frozen in his veins. Something is terribly wrong.

“ _Vlad?_ ” he repeats in a tiny voice, slowly stepping back across the carpet. The Russian growls again, deep and inhuman, the sound sends another cold rush of fear to Roswell’s gut. His intense gaze follows the Italian, slowly turning to face him, Vlad’s eyes seem to _glow_ in the darkness.

The coarse hair on Vlad’s shoulders bristles as though disturbed by static energy, his body thrums with something fiery hot and primal, muscles tense, breathing heavy. The sight makes Roswell tremble.

“Vlad, you’re scaring me” The Italian says in a strangely meek voice, thick with fear, his brow furrowed and eyes wide.

The growling only escalates into a terrifying snarl, as Vlad seems to explode with sudden rage, unleashing a bestial roar that shakes the windows and sends a tremor through the floor. His limbs begin to shift and pull, bones cracking and skin stretching. The Russian’s thick muscles convulse and thrash under his skin, as Vlad’s form morphs and grows before Roswell’s eyes.  Coarse black hair bursts from every pore, sprouting all across his enormous body, slowly consumed by a second skin of thick, dark fur.

Vlad’s body slowly stretches toward the ceiling, towering high above the petrified Doctor, his shoulders broad and powerful as he stands on hind legs.

Roswell stares in horror up at his partner, or rather, what _was_ him.

The beast takes a sharp inhale through it’s round, leathery nose, it’s wet nostrils flaring as it sniffs out it’s surrounding. It’s head is as big and round as a pumpkin, with comically small, round ears, Thick fur as black as night and queer, beady eyes set deep in to it’s enormous head.

It’s a bear. An enormous black bear with one shredded ear and a white streak of fur in it’s mane. Not just any bear, It’s Vlad.

There’s a long moment where the Medic just stands and stares, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in fearful awe. It takes a great amount of effort to find his voice again from when he’d swallowed it.

“What the _fuck_ , Vlad?!” Roswell finally snaps, after a long moment of being frozen in sheer terror “I _told_ you I don’t want to be around you when- when you look like _that_ ” The Italian makes an admirable effort to sound his usual irritable and stern self, as though scolding a dog, but his voice wavers and even cracks before the truly huge animal. He’s seen Vlad in this state before, but he never really gets use to it. In fact, he doesn’t _want_ to get use to it. Nobody should ever be comfortable in the face of something so _unnatural_.

“You could at least warn me before you do that” The Italian continues, huffing as he grips his own wrist, half out of nerves, half to shield his mostly naked form from Vlad’s eyes, Keeping his hands firmly in front of his privates. He can feel his own pulse beating hard in his wrist.

Vlad doesn’t give a verbal answer, his hot, thick breath puffing out from between his sharp teeth, but Roswell swears his maw is twisted into a malicious grin. The beast continues to huff, making low, rumbling growls.

As reluctant as the Doctor is to take his gaze off the imposing creature, something catches his eye, and his eyes slowly trail down the massive expanse of Vlad’s body. From the tuft of hair between his thighs, something shiny and pink begins to peek out, And Roswell’s eyes grow wide in horror as Vlad’s _enormous_ cock slowly unsheathes itself, emerging from his sheath like a great, tapered worm, curving under its own weight.

“ _Vlad!_ ” The Italian practically squeals, throwing an arm over his eyes and batting at the air with his other hand, as though to keep the grotesque phallus at bay “ _Per l'amor di Dio,_ put it away!”

It’s the size of Vlad’s _arm_ , perhaps even bigger, smooth and thick, tapering to a gradual point where slimy precum drips from the purple slit.

Vlad manages a strange, gravelly chuckle, so deep it reverberates through Roswell’s very core, taking a heavy, lumbering step toward the tiny Medic, his massive erection bobbing.

Roswell stumbles back, forgetting all modesty as he keeps his hands crossed like a shield between them, as Vlad slowly approaches, shaking the floorboards with each step.

“What are you doing?” The Doctor stammers, fear gripping his vocal cords as his protests come out more of a simpering plea.

“Don’t come near me, _I mean it!_ ” It’s useless, The great beast is closing in on him, so close he can almost smell it’s awful, sour musk of arousal. He doesn’t want to deal with this, he’s tired, _so tired._ Roswell quickly stumbles back as Vlad approaches, dropping heavily onto all fours to stalk toward the Italian.

With his heart beating in his ears, Roswell turns sharply and bolts for the door, but Vlad is quicker, and lunges, huge jaws snapping at the Doctor’s briefs and grabbing his underwear between his sharp teeth. Roswell stumbles as he’s jerked back, scrambling in a blind panic before tripping over his own feet and crashing down onto the carpet.

Roswell groans, his knees throbbing from where he’d fallen, but he’s soon clawing at the ground as Vlad slowly drags him back by the underwear, and Roswell yelps as the fabric is pulled tight and taut, giving him one _hell_ of a wedgie.

“ _Get off!_ Let go of me, you horrid brute!” The Medic screams as he hears his briefs rip, the shredded remains caught between Vlad’s sharp teeth. Roswell takes his chance, kicking away from the great beast to scrabble, now naked, across the floor toward the bedroom door.

Adrenaline pumping, Roswell springs to hit feet and throws the bedroom door open, bolting down the dark hallway with no real direction, But he hears Vlad lumbering after him, sending the floorboards shaking as the beast suddenly barrels right into him, it’s great pumpkin head shoving the Doctor hard in the back and sending him flying into the nearest wall.

The Medic goes limp for a second, slumping down the wall to the floor, his hair hanging bedraggled in his face as he breathes hard, clutching his ribs.

The bear wastes no time in closing it’s distance, muscles and bulk swaying as it stalks toward the Italian, as Roswell can do naught but clutch the wall and scream as Vlad corners him.

Spitting like a trapped cat, Roswell aims a few sharp, desperate punches to the bear’s snout and maw, red faced and shrieking protests as Vlad forces himself closer. With a sudden roar, Vlad lunges, swinging his huge head into the Italian's side and sending him crashing to the ground with a hard thud and a winded grunt. Roswell’s hands shoot up to shield his head, eyes squeezed shut as he curls in on himself, cowering on the floor at the mercy of the beast.

The second the Medic is down, the beast moves in, heaving himself to stand over the trembling Doctor, his gargantuan, purpling cock dragging across the floor, leaving a slimy, iridescent trail in it’s wake. Roswell flinches hard and clamps his forearms over his ears, as the bear looms over him, drawing his legs in tight, his teeth grit and eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of what was to come. His body is already sore, blotchy and red with forming bruises from being thrown around and shook like a rag doll. He curses himself inwardly for being so weak, but above all, he curses Vlad for making him feel as such.

“ _Bastardo_ ” Roswell hisses through his teeth, trembling through a damning mix of fear, pain and anger. Vlad either isn’t hearing him, or doesn’t care, as he firmly nudges the Doctor onto his front with a shove of his snout. Roswell allows it, but only because he knows he is no match for the Vlad, _especially_ like this. Getting a smack in the mouth for his obstinance was one thing, but now he was in real, mortal danger. Vlad could tear him apart in seconds.

Roswell remains on his belly, trembling, hot with adrenaline and fury, yet cold with fear and lingering sweat. He almost dares a glance back to meet Vlad’s gaze, but a cold, wet nose pressed to his coccyx makes him bite down a whimper, pressing his cheek to the floor.

He then jumps with a sharp gasp, as a tongue as rough and moist as wet sandpaper suddenly searches out to slowly lick between his cheeks, the rough surface dragging across his asshole. Cringing as the strange sensation wracks him with shudder, Roswell’s head snaps up as he blindly reaches back in an attempt to bat Vlad’s head away.

“ _Don’t-!_ ” The Medic gripes, as the beast’s wide tongue circles and laps slowly at his hole, content to taste the Doctor, it’s large, drooping lower lip rubbing gently against Roswell’s taint.

Roswell continues to gasp and whine as Vlad begins to slowly lap at him, lips smacking and grunting softly in content, despite how the Italian squirms beneath him, face screwed up in disgust. The Medic’s scowl is broken by another sharp gasp as Vlad clumsily lips at his soft rim, thick saliva soaking into his pucker and making it soft and pliable.  

Steeling himself against the grotesque feeling of that prickly tongue lapping fervently at his most sensitive area, Roswell’s head slumps to the floor, face red and panting raggedly. His body quivers under the strain as the bear continues to mouth and lick at him, leaving his nerves tingling in his wake as Vlad’s tongue drags against him over and over. It’s not long before Roswell starts to feel sore, cringing in discomfort with every pass. The Italian can do nothing but murmur pitiful whines and complaints into the floor, fingers balling into fists as he’s eaten out, licked repeatedly by that prickly tongue.

“Vlad, _Stop! I mean it”_ Roswell seethes with as much venom as he can muster, despite feeling utterly exhausted, gasping in shock and revulsion as he feels the beast’s flat tongue squeezing it’s way into his ass, the rough texture dragging horribly against his insides. By now, sweat prickles at the Medic’s brow, hot against his skin, and he swallows thickly, feeling infuriatingly helpless.

Vlad gives the Italian little respite, pulling back to lick his chops, only to shove his large snout straight back between those supple cheeks to continue his torment,  his rough, flat tongue searching out to lap over the Medic’s asshole, much to Roswell’s disgust.

The Medic practically squeals in horror as Vlad’s calloused tongue licks him, clenching hard in an attempt to defend himself against that rough tongue worming its way inside him.  The wet muscle is so rough and strange in texture, rubbing relentlessly against his insides, Vlad’s breath hot and thick against Roswell’s ass and taint.

“ _Please_ Vlad, just leave me alone” Roswell practically sobs in desperation, tendrils of damp hair sticking to his brow, thumping the ground in frustration and anger and Vlad’ tongue writhes and twists in his ass.

Be it coincidence, or some kind of acknowledgement from the beast, Vlad finally pulls off with a wet smack, a thick bridge of saliva stretching from Roswell’s hole to his lip. The Medic breathes a momentary sigh of relief, as the remains of drool drip down between his cheeks to puddle on the floor.

“ _Disgustoso_ _beastia_ ” The Medic seethes, thighs squirming against one another despite the gross wetness between them “What is _wrong_ with you?”

It’s only after a creeping bout of silence that Roswell finally peels his sticky cheek from the floor, blinking round in the dark hallway. The floor feels so cold compared to the sheer heat radiating from the underside of the bear standing over him.

It’s then that he feels something hot and slimy slithering up his inner thighs, leaving a glistening trail of clear ooze along his skin. Roswell’s body burns with pangs of icy fear as Vlad mounts him, standing over his body on four strong limbs, his _monstrous_ cock pressing hard against his rear. The implication makes his blood run cold.

“Wait- Vlad, no” The Medic starts, body flinching hard as Vlad’s lowers himself on top of him, careful not to crush the Doctor beneath his weight. Roswell stares in blank horror as the bear, with a gentle but possessive grip, secures his teeth around the back of the Medic’s slender neck, as though biting a mates scruff, keeping Roswell pinned to the floor as he calmly adjusts himself into position.

When Vlad’s tapered cock slides along his crack, seeking out a hole to penetrate, to _fuck_ and _breed_ , Roswell’s head starts to spin. There’s no possible, logical way it can fit without destroying his insides. Blood roars in his ears as the feeling of sheer helplessness claws at his gut.

“Vlad, _per favore,_ stop, _please!”_ He whispers, pinned by the great beast's jaws locked around his neck, too scared to thrash or struggle at risk of injury. Instead, he starts to kick in a fit of blind panic, clawing and thumping at the ground in desperate protest as Vlad continues to grind his slimy cock between his ass cheeks, making soft, rumbling noises of content against the nape of his neck.

Roswell can only clench his hands until his knuckles and fingers turn white, teeth grit in grim apprehension as the bear’s enormous cock slides up his taint to press threateningly against his hole.

“You can’t do this, Vlad” The Italian breathes again, voice shaking terribly despite how he desperately tries to contain his fear, breathing slow and ragged as he pleads; “You’ll hurt me, you know, I mean _really_ hurt me”

His only line of defense is to clench as hard as he can, anything to stop the slim tip of that monstrous phallus from breaching him. By now the sweat from his brow has soaked into his long hair, dark, damp tendrils strewn across his flushed face, as beads of perspiration cling to his skin, pooling in the dip of his back. Roswell doesn’t remember a time he’s been so scared in his life.

“Vlad _please,_ Don’t-”  Roswell’s breath hitches, forming a hard lump in his throat as the tapered head pushed harder against him, no matter how hard he clenches, he can do nothing to stop it when it begins to push through.

That horribly slimy tip slowly, _slowly_ starts sliding into him, as Roswell braces himself against the hard floor, body tense and eyes screwed shut. His jaw grits tight, teeth grinding in grim apprehension, as Vlad’s cock gradually inches deeper, his body opening reluctantly around it’s girth.

 It’s not like any cock he’s ever taken, no ridges or bumps, or  a head or veins, just a smooth, slick length, feeding into him like an endless, prehensile worm, stretching him out and burying into his insides. The tip enters smoothly enough, and the little Italian even momentarily surprises himself when he gasps, as the tapered head prods directly against his prostate, making him shudder and mewl pitifully. But soon Vlad’s cock is filling his entire rectum at a nauseatingly slow pace, and it shows no sign of stopping...

“Wait, _wait…”_ The Medic burbles, hand blindly reaching out to grip anything it can reach, hooking his fingers into Vlad’s thick, furry leg and clinging on for dear life. The sensation is already too much, and it’s _barely_ in. A horrid, creeping sense of dread makes his insides churn, realizing just how _dire_ a situation he's in...

Though he doesn’t stop or pull out, Vlad does release his grip on the Italian’s, leaving sore looking marks along the sides of his neck, bracing himself on all fours with the Doctor trapped beneath him.

Roswell’s mouth falls open around a startled, strained cry that only escalates as Vlad’s pushes in even _further_ , a long, loud garbled wail tearing from his throat like the last cries of a dying animal, a mute combination of agony and pure overwhelment gripping his body.

He jerks as the hot, slick length squeezes through his tight channel, curving sharply into the sigmoid colon, feeling it prod somewhere deep in his stomach. The typically fiery doctor is reduced to a slew of pitiful whimpers as the tapered head presses somewhere deep inside him, somewhere that was never meant to be reached, causing him to jolt sharply at the foreign, shocking sensation prodding deep in his gut. The way Vlad’s cock stretches his hole wider and wider with every inch it pushes in only adds to his suffering.

It’s unlike any pain or any _thing_ he’s ever felt. Vlad’s inhuman cock is _so big,_ stretching his asshole unbearably wide to the point he feels like he might split and bleed. It takes Roswell a few agonizing seconds to realize that it's slowly going into his _intestines,_ adding a hot wave of nausea as he quickly realizes there is nothing he can do nothing to stop it, no amount of clenching or bearing down can halt it’s ingress as if forces its way inside him, worming its way into his _guts_ like a great parasite.

His wail of anguish doesn’t deter the great beast at his back, as Vlad, seemingly having grown impatient with his cautious penetration, suddenly surges forward, hips snapping as he buries the full length of his _monstrous_ cock into the tiny Italian with one violent thrust and a horrid, wet _squelch_.  

Roswell’s body seizes, rigid and shaking in agony as a piercing scream rips from his dry throat, brow clinched in devastated pain as he sobs. The force hits him like a speeding truck straight to the abdomen, his exhausted body exploding in the most devastating pain he’s ever encountered. He’s still screaming as vision starts to blur, hot tears pricking the corners of his eyes, spilling over to score twin lines down his red cheeks. His insides, his _insides_. Everything between his legs feels pummeled into mush and hollowed out, organs squeezed aside to make space for the Russian’s immense cock. The Medic can do little more than sob and shake as Vlad’s length sits well past the first stretch of his large intestine, ending somewhere along his descending colon.

“Oh God...Oh _fuck_ ” The Italian gasps hoarsely into the floor, his hands shaking and body quivering with the immense struggle of such a large insertion. Though he barely notices it, The Medic is practically _dripping_ with sweat, his back arching sharply against the over sized intrusion, body tense and trembling under the extersion. His asshole _burns_ and his insides ache, feeling so much agony in his lower half that it reduces him to near silent sobs. He wants nothing more than to clutch his stomach and curl in on himself.

Somewhere in the back of his fraught mind, Roswell numbly clutches at his neck, finding the gold cross that hangs off a slim chain and squeezing it tightly in his fist. He needed it now, surely his God would not allow such torment and _sin_ upon one of his children. Roswell knew he was no saint, but even _he_ didn't deserve this.

Despite his consciousness beginning to drift, one of the things Roswell is unfortunately _acutely_  aware of, is how utterly void his lower half feels. It’s a revolting sensation, his asshole is stretched so obscenely wide around the thick girth of the bear’s _enormous_ phallus, though he can’t see it, he can feel it, his rim pulled taught as he’s speared upon the Giant’s length. He can’t even bring himself to clench in resistance, twitching feebly as he’s stretched to capacity, but mostly, he has lost all ability to control or even _feel_ his rectal muscles.  Despite all the hardships of prison and war he has faced in his life, Roswell has never wanted to _die_ so much as in this moment.

During the time it takes to force his entire length into Roswell’s body, Vlad remains dutifully still, the Doctor’s agonized cries and wails managing to filter their way in to the remaining portion of his human subconscious, reminding him to be a _little_ merciful. But he’s growing impatient, the animal part of his brain demanding heat and friction, the scent of the Medic already driving him near out of his _mind._

Roswell, on the other hand, isn’t feeling so hot, and has begun babbling something in his native tongue, clutching a little gold crucifix in both hands with his eyes squeezed shut.

_“Padre nostro che sei nei cieli….”_

The Medic’s usually long silky hair is a tangle mess, damp with sweat and plastered to his brow and cheeks, knuckles white around his crucifix as he recites the prayer in a broken whisper. It seemed the Doctor had chosen to beg to a higher power than Vlad.

The Russian himself pays no notice, as he gradually begins to ease his cock out of the Medic’s ass, made difficult by the intense squeeze of his muscles, gripping his length like a vice and _refusing_ to let go, but Vlad continues to pull anyway..

Unfortunately realizing this a little too late, Roswell gives a dismal wail, feeling like the bear’s cock had fused to his insides and would pull them out right along with it. He grips his cross in shaking hands, bowing his head in fearful worship, The threat of permanent damage all too real in his mind.

“S _-sia santificato il tuo nome; venga il tuo regno...sia fatta la tua volontà, come in cielo così in terra-”_

Slowly, Vlad withdraws his length fair way out, leaving nothing but the slim tip sheathed within the Medic’s sore hole, giving the Italian no time to finish his prayer as it _rams_ back in with a loud, sordid squelch.

Roswell _howls_ , abruptly ripped from his prayers as the solid length shoves back into his guts, like a hard punch to the abdomen, it renders him winded and breathless. Shock waves of agony pulse throughout his lower body like fire bleeding into his organs. Everything feels utterly _torn._

No matter how much the Medic may cry and beg, his pleas fall on deaf ears as Vlad repeats the motion, dragging his cock from his squealing captive, before slamming it back in to the hilt, his ingress sounding so dreadfully _wet_ and... _mushy_ , accompanied by Roswell’s woeful screeches.

But it’s no concern to the great beast, it’s huge, bulking body tensing as he gradually starts to fuck the Doctor in earnest, hips working up to a steady pace, balls swinging between his strong thighs. Roswell’s mind wipes blank for a second, eyes wide before his face screws up into a pained grimace, bottom lip quivering and brow creasing as all he can comprehend is the intense pain burning through him. Vlad only manages about three solid thrusts before the little Doctor cracks.  

“ _It huuuuuurrrts-!”_ He wails, fresh tears welling over to spill down his cheeks, dripping off his chin and onto the floorboards, merging into the slick mess of drool covering his chin. The sudden noise actually manages to startle the beast, it’s rhythm stuttering; “Vlad it hurts _so much_ \- _please!”_ Having finally found his voice, the Medic is sobbing, shoulders heaving with hard shakes as he can barely catch his breath, gasping hoarsely.

Roswell’s limp, exhausted body is roughly jerked forward against the hard floor with every thrust, face bright red and wet with fluids, screwed up in a look of sheer agony. His palms are sliced from where he clutches his crucifix so tightly, hands shaking uncontrollably.

 _“Dacci oggi il nostro... pane quotidiano_ -” A hiccup, twin lines of snot drip from Roswell’s nostrils to his top lip, eyes bleary and unfocused; “- _rimetti a noi i nostri d-debiti”_

Another thrust, harder this time, and Roswell bleats like a lamb to the slaughter, unable to do anything but clutch his idol and pray for it to be over. His ass feels utterly raw and stretched to ruin, a horrid, twisting pain in his insides as he’s filled to an obscene depth. His cock hangs limp and useless between his thighs as he presses his clutched hands to his forehead, teeth grinding as he prays for a savior.

A strange, gravelly rumble tears him from his suffering, eyes snapping wide open as he hears a sound that makes his blood freeze in his veins.

“ _You are wasting your breath_ ”

Body frozen, Roswell’s head slowly turns to glance over his shoulder, staring in disbelief as he meets the piercing stare of Vlad’s mismatched eyes.

 _“Focus on staying conscious, I do not want you passing out yet”_   The words come deep and reverberating from Vlad’s fanged maw, staring down at the ravished medic with a detached, impassive look. Roswell can only stare back, eyes blown wide and fearful, red and sore as tears score down his hot cheeks. He says nothing, his voice drowning beneath the tempest of emotions bringing him to exhaustion.

The Medic is broken from his stupor as Vlad’s thrusts suddenly escalate in force, hips snapping roughly against his backside, that _monster_ of a cock ramming hard into his insides, drawing horrid squelching noises with each ingress and withdraw, Carving its way through his guts to use him like a hollowed out fuck-hole.

“I can’t do it… I _can’t”_   Roswell sobs again, listening to the vulgar sounds of his insides being liquidized as Vlad fucks him into the floor, his body lifting and slamming down into the wood with every hard thrust. The sharp withdraw of the bear’s length is almost as painful as the entry, dragging out of his body with immense difficulty as Roswell’s hole grips it so tightly, giving the Doctor the horrid sensation of being turned inside-out.

“ _Yes you can”_   Vlad replies in a thunderous growl, his primal instincts raging as his mind clouds with nothing but the thought of how _good_ it feels to pound into the hysterical Doctor, to force his body open and claim him as his mate in all forms.

The iron smell of blood is coming from somewhere, but Vlad hasn’t the care to check exactly where, his primal lust to fuck his mate overpowering any feeble human concern he might have once had.

Roswell is dimly aware of a fresh wetness sliding down the back of his thighs, but his head is growing so light and disorientated he can’t seem to register much sensation anymore. All that he can focus on is how his body _screams_ in agony, cheek to the floor as his eyes roll in his skull, every inch of skin flushed pink, sweating and shaking profusely. His hands twitch weakly, barely able to grip the cross around his neck.

After a few long minutes of brutal fucking, hips pounding relentlessly against Roswell's bruised rear, Vlad stoops down to enclose his teeth as gently as he can around the back of the Medic's neck, holding him still as his powerful thrusts escalate to a truly _punishing_ pace, sending the Doctor almost delirious as that massive length manages to reach a new depth. Roswell’s stomach bulges grotesquely with each thrust, protruding from the inside with every stab of Vlad’s cock.  Far away from the torment and pain, He wonders somewhere in his distant mind if Vlad is actually trying to kill him. Maybe this was his ultimate punishment. There would be no forgiveness for this, no amount of confession would save him from eternal damnation after committing such  _sin_. Vlad was choosing to send him to hell. 

At this, Roswell cries harder. But then an even _more_ terrible realization hits. The way Vlad's thrust become unhinged and fervent, taking his pleasure so _selfishly_ from the Doctor's body. He was getting close. In Roswell's mind, There was something even _worse_ then fucking, and that was the _climax._

“Don’t…” He tries, but his voice croaks out as a tiny rasp, throat raw and utterly exhausted, consciousness slipping as the wet, sloppy sounds seem suddenly so far away, like a distant nightmare.

The excruciating burn between his legs is the only thing keeping the Medic grounded to reality, his mind trying desperately to float away, anything to escape the torture. He tries to beg, but his voice is nothing but a broken whisper, drowned out by the sounds of debauchery.

“ _Per favore, Vlad , Non fare questo… non all'interno_ ”

He knows it’s coming, renewed with a fresh sense of _dread_ , Roswell begins to crumble, face sore from the salty tears, eyes puffy and red as he sobs anew, shuddering around a broken gasp as his lungs threaten to send him into a hyperventilating fit.

The end comes all too soon as Vlad gives one last, brutal thrust, ripping a shrill scream from his prey as he buries his throbbing length deep inside the tiny Medic, unleashing a strained growl of release as his balls hitch and his seed rushes forth into the Doctor’s bowls.

The shear force and quantity in which Vlad’s release shoots into him is enough to make Roswell’s body go rigid, as he wails, long and loud, mouth wide and eyes screwed shut, lungs burning as Vlad’s scorchingly hot cum floods his insides, filling his intestines and ass to bursting point. His cries of dismay only escalating as pressure builds inside him, thick cum pumping endlessly into his ass, Vlad’s cock plugging him completely and preventing even a drop from escaping. To his horror, It doesn’t stop, and Roswell gives a panicked groan as he feels his stomach begin to swell, his distended belly hanging underneath him like a pregnant sow, the pressure so intense he starts to wonder if he might actually _explode._

Finally, Roswell’s stomach hangs heavy and round underneath him, pressing painfully against the hard floor where it makes a sickening gurgle sound, as the copious amount of semen begins to settle in his bowels.

He lies utterly overcome, eyes vacant as drool slowly escapes his open mouth and pools under his cheek, barely clinging to consciousness. He's dimly aware of Vlad's teeth pressing hard against his neck, hearing the beast pant above him.

Having fully sated his need, Vlad gradually releases his hold on the Doctor’s neck, giving it a gentle lick with his rough tongue before slowly beginning to pull out. Roswell stirs as he feels the hard length shifting inside him, gradually sliding out of his ruined body with no small amount of difficulty. The tight channel of Roswell’s rectum and lower intestine grip Vlad’s cock like a suction sleeve, and the Doctor manages a feeble whine, the hideous sensation of voiding makes him shudder in revulsion. He wants to clench in a desperate attempt to stop his insides from possibly slipping out his ass, but he finds he can hardly feel his muscles, never mind tighten them. So he is forced to lie, utterly helpless with his stomach hot and full, as Vlad slowly, carefully withdraws.

Panic grips the Medic as his pelvic floor feels loose and weak, heaving a dry sob as Vlad’s cock slowly withdraws to the tip, pulling a little too much of Roswell’s soft rim with it. Roswell is suddenly hit with a terrible realization that his insides are following through.

“Wait, Wait Vlad, my ass- _MY ASS!_ ”

Ignoring the Doctor’s pleas, Vlad’s huge cock finally slips free, pulling the soft insides of his rectum through his gaping anus where it protrudes like a soft red tube of muscle, as Roswell can only look back and stare in absolute horror.

His tries to clench in desperation, legs weak and shaking. His eyes dart to Vlad, staring over his shoulder in a wide eyed, accusatory fear that says “ _What the hell have you done?_ ”

Cautiously, Roswell reaches back with a shaking hand to brush his fingers over the protruding mass, gasping in shock as he touches his own insides.

Vlad doesn’t say a word, having shifted back to give the Medic some space, emotionless and observing as Roswell’s panic and mortification grows as he realizes what’s happened to his body.

Tentatively, Roswell keeps his hand as steady as he can, reaching down and pressing gently with his fingers, gaping ass pulsing weakly before he manages to push the loose muscle back inside. The sensation remains, however, a horrible heavy feeling between his, a pulling weight in his insides. As he gently brushes the tips of his fingers around the stretched rim of his ass, Roswell gives a barely audible sob, feeling the extent of the damage to his body,  fingers easily able to slip inside without even touching the edges. But, at least his insides were the right way out again.

Even Vlad can now see in full the ruin he’s left in his wake, Roswell’s ass gapes at an _obscene_ width, his taint stained with drying blood. He can see right down to the black depths of his insides.

Roswell’s moment of small relief is then cut woefully short, as if having his ass turned inside-out weren't enough,His swollen stomach gives sudden a loud gurgle, a wave of sickening panic floods his wrecked body as the contents of his bowels shift.

The Doctor finds he has no more energy to protest as his stomach gives a sickly churn, his sore, gaping rim twitching and pulsing as a thick rope of cum suddenly spurts from his hole, spewing forth and tinged with blood as it splatters to the wooden floor between his legs. He moans miserably as his body drains of Vlad’s cum, stomach practically deflating as the last thick globs of semen slowly drip from his hole, stretching in thick, yellowish ropes before breaking off to pool on the floor.

For a long moment, Roswell just breathes, body trembling from exertion and sheer exhaustion, eyes staring off into the distant. Vlad simply watches impassively as the Medic finally collapses, head thumping against the floor as he goes limp and lifeless.

\----

 

Roswell awakes in warmth and agony. Everything hurts and yet is numb, his limbs feel like hot iron and yet they are floating, almost weightless. He finds he can’t move his body no matter how much he wills it. Perhaps he’s dead, or dying, he thinks.

One eye cracks open, barely opening into a slither as it rolls around in it’s socket, trying to get some bearings. The Doctor is met with a sheer white light, shining in his eyes that makes him recoil.

His head rolls to the side, where he can vacantly make out edge of the bathtub, the sink and toilet in their usual pristine whiteness. Too white, his eyes close as he turns his head away.

Slowly, Consciousness begins to drip back into The Doctor’s body, submerged limbs stirring weakly in the warm water.. Roswell hisses, instantly regretting attempting to move as he the pain between his legs returns in fresh, burning waves of agony, his instinctive reaction to squeeze his thighs together only fueling the pain and making him wail in bitter anguish.

“ _Dio… Fa male..._ ”

Sluggish, but awake, Roswell gradually rouses into consciousness, lethargic and… so unbelievably sore. His entire body aches, the slightest of movements wracking him such such tremendous pain it brings fresh tears to his eyes. Breathing hurts, _existing hurts._ It’s even a monumental effort to let his eyes roll down, to stare listlessly at his body and see the gruesome array of purple and green bruises marring his skin. The bath water, though warm, is tinged a watery red. An open box of table salt sits on the edge of the bath. Unable to look at his beaten body any longer, Roswell’s head tips back with a soft thump, eyelids heavy as they slide closed.

Roswell doesn’t notice Vlad in the doorway, arms folded and leaning against the frame, observing with a level gaze. Having seen his Medic finally show signs of life, The Russian turns, setting the bathroom door ajar and leaving the Doctor to recover alone.

 


End file.
